


View from the Park Bench

by through_shadows_falling



Series: Supernatural Ficlets [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dad Dean, Fluff, Homeless Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Priestly Dean, Punk Dean, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-19 02:02:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3592104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/through_shadows_falling/pseuds/through_shadows_falling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel saw many things from his park bench. </p><p>By far, his favorite was a father-daughter duo: a white man in a blue Mohawk and a girl no older than seven.</p>
            </blockquote>





	View from the Park Bench

Castiel saw many things from his park bench. 

By far, his favorite was a father-daughter duo: a white man in a blue Mohawk and a girl no older than seven. 

Castiel had first seen them at the beginning of summer. The two walked with space between them, the blond girl staring mostly at the ground. The man was clearly trying to talk to her, but the girl’s gaze never wandered and her answers were quick and monosyllabic. The man finally gave up, and they left the park in silence. 

A few weeks later, they were back. The man’s hair was green at the tips, and his daughter’s was pulled back into lopsided pigtails. She was smiling, swinging her arms and twirling her dress, which was the same shade of green as her father’s Mohawk. The man was smiling, too, and Castiel watched them glance at each other shyly and stop at a cart to buy popsicles. They sat on a park bench to eat them, and the man had to rush for napkins when chocolate dribbled onto the girl’s dress. She wailed but the man knelt before her. Castiel couldn’t see what he did, as his back was to him, but when they were next visible, they were both laughing and licking their ice cream. 

They appeared for the third time not even a week after that. The girl raced ahead and the man chased after her, grinning even as he huffed for breath. They passed right in front of Castiel, and he saw that the man had tattoos creeping up his neck as well as several piercings on his face and ears. 

That was the first time Castiel noticed the side-eyes the pair received from other park occupants, especially packs of women pushing strollers. They would stop talking at the man’s approach, then glance back at him once he had passed, leaning toward each other conspiratorially and raising their eyebrows. 

Castiel didn’t like how they passed judgment so easily despite the little girl’s brilliant smile, but as the recipient of similar looks, he knew that people were people. Anything foreign or strange would always raise flags.

The fourth time Castiel caught sight of the man in the Mohawk and his daughter, he couldn’t help but smile himself. The pair had brought some baseball gloves and played catch. The girl was terrible but having the time of her life. Castiel could hear her peals of joy from across the park. They cooled off by the fountain, initiating a splash war, and they both left soaking wet. 

It was a while before Castiel saw them after that. Summer had come and gone in a flash, heralding the chilly winds of autumn. Castiel pulled his trench coat tighter around himself and smiled when the little girl skipped into view, tugging on her father’s hand. The man’s Mohawk was black at the base with red stripes, and Castiel got a better look at his piercings when they walked in front of him, the girl insistent. Castiel was disappointed that they appeared to be cutting through the park toward a different destination, and was about to turn away when a hot pink square fell from the girl’s coat pocket. They continued on without noticing, disappearing around the corner. Castiel waited, debating with himself, and then he moved along the path toward the object. 

When he got closer, he saw that it was a wallet. Inside was an ID card with the name ‘EMMA WINCHESTER’ scribbled across two lines and a hand-drawn portrait of the girl in question. The rest of the space was colored in a rainbow pattern, and when Castiel flipped it over, he saw a real photograph pasted to the back of the girl and her father. It made him smile.

Briefly, Castiel wondered what to do with it, and wound up just sitting on the nearest bench to where the wallet had fallen, hoping they would return for it. Normally, he would leave the park to see if he could scrounge up change for lunch, but he didn’t feel hungry. He sat there until the park closed, and then a policeman chased him away. 

That night in an abandoned bus, Castiel turned the wallet over in his hands. It was made of duct tape, and the color was so bright it practically glowed in the darkness. He imagined the girl - Emma - and prayed that she wasn’t too distraught by its loss.  

The next day, he resumed his usual post but earlier than usual, right when the park opened. It was a gray day and Castiel had started coughing in the night. He ignored his illness and kept his eyes peeled for Emma or her father, sitting for hours on end until the rumbling of his stomach forced him to search for food. 

The following day, his cough was worse and the day was colder. The wallet was buried deep in his pocket, away from the prying eyes of passersby who finally noticed him when he was hacking out his lungs. A few kind souls dropped money in front of him, but most hurried away as if repulsed. Castiel didn’t mind the latter and thanked the former warmly, but still he searched for the man in the Mohawk. 

On the third day, he finally appeared. Castiel could’ve sworn he was dreaming when he saw the familiar black and red spikes bobbing along the path. The man was alone but he was walking slowly, his eyes raking over the ground. 

Castiel knew just what he was looking for.

He stood and made his way over to the man, stumbling slightly and ignoring the looks he received. When he was close enough, he called out hoarsely, “Excuse me?”

It took a second, but the man finally glanced up. His eyes were wary as Castiel approached, and he started to back away when Castiel reached into his pocket.

"I believe this is your daughter’s," Castiel said, producing the wallet. 

The man stared at it in amazement. ”I thought for sure it was thrown away or something by now.”

"I saw your daughter drop it and hoped to give it back to you." He passed it over and the man looked at him,  _really_  looked at him. 

"Thank you," he said, and Castiel met his green-eyed stare. 

"It was no prob-" Castiel started, but broke into a coughing fit. He cursed his timing, expecting the man to be long gone by the time it was over. Instead, when he straightened, the man hadn’t moved and was peering at him carefully. 

"Can I…can I help you at all? Food? Medicine?"

Castiel’s cheeks burned. “No, that’s alright.” He didn’t need charity from this man. Just seeing him with his daughter was enough. 

"Please. At least let me take you to lunch. Emma’s been whining about this stupid thing for days. You really saved me." He smiled, and Castiel thought it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Awkwardly, he returned it.

The man stuck out a hand. “I’m Dean.”

Castiel stared at it. “I would shake but I don’t want to get you or your daughter ill.” Dean’s hand dropped and Castiel hurriedly added, “I’m Castiel.”

"Castiel? Huh. What’s that, French?"

"I don’t know."

Dean nodded thoughtfully. “Well, Castiel, how do you feel about burgers?”


End file.
